


Eye Colors and Percentages

by thecrimsonmonarch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Gen or Pre-Slash, London Underground, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrimsonmonarch/pseuds/thecrimsonmonarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Has talking to strangers ever been a good idea?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye Colors and Percentages

Tom Riddle  _loathed_  the Tube with a burning passion.

The  _smell_ , the  _clutter_ ,  _the crowd_  - 

So it really was not unexpected that he looked like he was ready to commit murder.

Which could actually be the case.

His thoughts were along the lines of wringing the neck of one uncivilized idiot a few paces away from him (who was talking loudly on his mobile and currently in the process of blasting the eardrums of everyone in a close radius) and wringing his _own_ neck (for taking the bloody Tube), when the door opened to admit even more passengers.

_'Great. Just great.'_

Once again, he questioned his decision to travel by commute. He gripped the metal bar by the door tighter and allowed passage to the sudden influx of people. The doors were already sliding close when yet _another person_ tried to slip in.

Said person fortunately managed just in time, although quite unfortunate in finding himself face to face with one Tom Riddle.

Actually, face-to-chest would be more specific.

“Er-sorry.”

Tom looked down his nose at the flushed young man with the unruly black hair and glasses askew.

 _'Approximately two percent of the human population,'_ his brain randomly supplied as he stared at green eyes, which, supposedly, were quite uncommon.

Thoughts of percentages and rare genetic traits aside, he decided to maintain eye contact with the green-eyed stranger a bit longer than the usual "quick paranoia-filled glances" in public transpos, because one thing he was certain about people was that they tend to give you space if they think you're some creep with questionable intentions.

He should have known better than to generalise “people.”

"A bit longer" dragged on to be "a lot longer" and later turned into an intense let's-see-who-blinks-first.

His staring partner broke the silence first...

"Would you consider your eyes to be _reaaally_ pale blue or simply grey?”

...but it was Tom who blinked first.

" _Excuse_ me _?_ "

"I remember reading about a survey saying that grey eyes are pretty rare..."

No matter how rare grey eyes were, moments where Tom Riddle was shocked into silence were even rarer.

"There were some quite specific numbers but I don't-"

The rare moment lasted only a moment.

"Can we  _please_  just continue the rest of the ride without speaking to each other?"

The stranger complied, shutting up and merely shrugging in response, but something bothered Tom.

Minutes passed and the next stop was reached.

And the next.

And then Tom couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Eight percent," he said through gritted teeth.

" _Excuse_ me?" The younger man mockingly asked, parroting Tom's previous reaction.

"Approximately eight percent of the human population," Tom snapped, "have grey eyes."

Silence settled between them once again, this time with one trying (and failing) to stifle a smile and one tightly clenching his jaw.

Minutes passed and the next stop was reached.

"This is my stop," said the stranger, grinning at Tom. He stepped out.

Now, there was something strange about that day that made Tom Riddle act strangely around strangers, and before he could stop himself, he was walking beside the green-eyed stranger and the words had stumbled from his mouth.

"Me too."

_'Oh, you bloody idiot.'_

The stranger raised his eyebrows at him.

The sound of the Tube doors closing behind them got fainter...

"Do you have any prior engagements?"

_'Yes.'_

... and fainter...

"No," came out Tom's lips.

_'Oh, God.'_

...and the doors sealed shut.

_'I don't bloody care anymore.'_

"Do you fancy grabbing a bite, then? There's this marvelous coffee place just around the corner."

Tom arched a brow at the younger man. "Why would I 'grab a bite' with a complete stranger?"

"To talk about eye colors and percentages, of course."

"Of course," Tom drawled.

His companion stepped in front of him and turned around.

"I'm Harry Potter," he said with a grin on his face, his hand outstretched. "There we go, not a complete stranger anymore."

Tom eyed Harry. "Didn't your parents warn you not to talk to strangers? For all you know, I could be a murderer."

"For all _you_ know, _I_ could be a murderer."

"Fair enough," Tom commented with a smirk. He clutched Harry's proffered hand in his. "Tom Riddle."

Harry's grin widened. "Pleasure."

 

Tom later sent a text message to his secretary informing her he would be late for work.


End file.
